


sweet like vanilla is

by loveinamaltshop



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Squip, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Chloe and Michael are pining buddies, F/F, F/M, If you love them, Jake Dillinger? Did you mean best friend extraordinaire?, M/M, Pining, Pining Chloe, Soft Jake, Swearing, Unrequited Love, aka something I do not condone, let them go, pining losers who can't talk about their feelings, some slut shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 12:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinamaltshop/pseuds/loveinamaltshop
Summary: Brooke didn’t deserve to love someone like her. She deserved the complete opposite of Chloe—kind and maybe a little shy and nerdy but was constantly and needlessly good to her. Someone constantly smiling like she is, too. Someone like Jeremy.She looks at Michael, who’s so close to passing out and wonders if she looks exactly like he does right now. Tired and pathetic. Rubbing at her face, she decides she definitely does.—In which Chloe and Brooke are both insecure in ways they'll never admit to the other.





	sweet like vanilla is

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I have Catherines_Collections to thank for inspiring this fic and really, being my sole motivation to get this thing done! Title is inspired by Lana del Rey's "Without You."

 

 

Chloe Valentine is thirteen the first time the word “bitch” is thrown at her.

She hears it from Jenna Rolan during lunch. Apparently, Katrina from their homeroom had called her that because she found out that Jake Dillinger liked Chloe instead of her. Alongside that, Katrina has apparently tacked on a rumor that Chloe French-kissed Michael Mell, the sad four-eyed loser who never wore anything other than the oversized hoodie and the same white sneakers all year round.

Chloe had felt a curling in her stomach, ears tinged pink with embarrassment, but mostly anger where she sat in the lunch table. She didn’t even _like_ Jake all that much. Sure, he was cute and all, but boys weren’t exactly the first thing on Chloe’s mind at the moment. If anything, it was the sleepover she was having later that night and making sure she could secure the more adult movies from her parent’s DVD collection to watch and giggle over with Brooke.

The rumor was the last straw for Chloe, because she had a _very_ specific plan not to kiss boys until she was in high school.

Her best friend, Brooke Lohst, was looking right at her with expectant eyes, eyes she’s always had since the third grade when it came to Chloe. They usually waited for a remark, a request, or any instruction. Jenna was right across them at the table, forearms placed in front of her, an eyebrow raised. She reminded Chloe of those journalists in those movies, all that was really missing was a notepad and big glasses.i

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything about her?” Jenna pushes, grinning wildly.

Chloe sees Brooke’s head tilt from her peripheral vision. Chloe tips her chin upwards. “I have a better idea,” she declares, narrowing her eyes.

She stands up, sneakers squeaking at the floor. She can feel Jenna and Brooke’s eyes on her and it only makes her puff her chest out, makes her glare more biting.

Katrina is there, sitting beside Jake and a few other boys. She’s the only girl who sits with boys and to the entire middle school, it makes her grown up. To Chloe, it only makes her a—

“Slut,” she hisses at Katrina’s turned back, and she feels the satisfying looks of nearby students’ faces that match up with Jake’s slack jaw and wide eyes.

Katrina turns, horrified at the word. “What?”

“Don’t test me,” she says levelly “You’re going to shut your mouth all the way till we graduate from high school if you know what’s good for you.”

Jake is hiding giggles into another boy’s shoulder before he looks admiringly at Chloe, like a hero, like she’s some untouchable entity of Middle Borough. The onlookers do the same.

She relishes in the feeling.

Katrina’s eyebrows are furrowed, looking everywhere but Chloe. Chloe practically grins at the sight of tears forming in her eyes. Finally, she grabs her backpack and walks through the doors of the lunch room.

When the doors swing to a close, there’s hysterical laughing from Jake. “You are so _evil_! Did you see her face?” he comments and it makes Chloe laugh along with him, throwing her head back and flipping her hair.

She truly believed she was untouchable.

* * *

They’re trying to decide between a French thriller and a historical drama when Brooke brings it up.

“Jenna Rolan said someone found Katrina crying in the janitor’s closet,” Brooke murmurs, lip between her teeth as she’s reading the back of the DVD.

“Boo hoo,” Chloe finds herself saying “That’s so pathetic. Katrina’s just a baby looking for attention.”

Brooke stares at her, parted lips and a furrowed brow. She grins a second later. “Yeah! You’re right. She totally is.”

“And she’s always sitting with boys. Who does that?”

“So slutty,” Brooke tests, her voice almost hesitant but she’s greeted by a giggle from Chloe that makes her smile widely instead.

“Can you believe she said that, though?” Chloe huffs before her back falls onto the couch cushions, no need for her icy demeanor now “Why does she even think I’d kiss someone right now? I’m not _that_ desperate for attention. I’m already pretty.”

“You are,” Brooke affirms with a light giggle.

Chloe crosses her arms over her chest before Brooke flops back from where she sits on the floor, resting the side of her head on the side of Chloe’s thigh.

“You know,” Brooke says softly “People usually kiss other people because they like them, not because they want to be popular.”

Chloe can’t help the undignified snort. “Uh, yeah, duh, Brooke.”

Brooke’s head dips and Chloe’s face softens. She doesn’t, however, apologize. “Were you just mad at Katrina because she made it sound like you liked Michael Mell?”

“Duh,” Chloe sing-songs “He’s a total nerd. He always has Cheeto fingers. _And_ he’s definitely gay.”

“Totally gay.” Brooke echoes.

Chloe cackles. A silence falls over them.

“Do you like someone else?” Brooke asks too quickly.

“You’d be the first to know, Brooke, trust me.”

Brooke opens her mouth to speak until she’s cut off by Chloe standing up to head to the kitchen. She closes her mouth, before she pulls up her knees to her chest. Her fingers pick at the carpeted floor, listening to the jarring beeps of the microwave.

She wonders if Chloe ever really hears her sometimes. She wonders if Chloe ever wants to listen in the first place.

* * *

Chloe held onto her promise and Brooke was always the first to know.

By the time they entered high school, Chloe had given Jake a coy yes. Chloe had basically sealed the deal to popularity throughout all four years of high school and Jake had the hottest girl in school, a win-win.

Brooke was the first to know about Chloe’s first kiss, and her first make out session, and her first time sleeping with Jake (and the countless times after.)

She always smiled at the right times, said the right things, retracted them immediately whenever they weren’t, and kept quiet when she knew Chloe wanted her to. If she was being honest, she knew her purpose by Chloe’s side. She admired Chloe.

However, in the safety of their homes or Brooke’s car, Chloe would be unguarded and candid. A side no one else at school got to see. This only made her love Chloe more.

Even seeing these facets of her, Brooke also knew she was very much invincible if she stuck by her best friend’s side. Ever since the start of high school, boys looked at her too. People knew her name and she never had to introduce herself to anyone. She was popular and cool and all she had to do was bat her eyelashes and say something cute and wrap her lips around a straw or a plastic spoon for her frozen yogurt to get anything she wanted.  

Being the second hottest girl in school, she had a job to do. To make Chloe look good. This included dating exclusively from the football team, lacrosse team, and the hotter guys from the debate team that weren’t Jake. She smiled and nodded at everything Chloe would say in public, even if it was a little meaner than it should be sometimes. She would drink at parties even though alcohol made her gag and the atmosphere always felt so strange to her.

It was hard to complain when there was nothing really wrong with the entire construction of her high school social life. If someone asked, she definitely missed middle school sleepovers and not having this entire dimension of to their social lives. But no one ever bothered to ask, so she never bothered to say.

She decided comfort and routine was better than anything the school might have to offer her. Chloe, her best friend, a mother underneath a dragon of a girl, was something she couldn’t afford to lose either.

* * *

Chloe’s life is perfect where it is. She’s the most popular sophomore in Middle Borough and she barely had to try. Well, barely, if you didn’t count the plan she had conjured up since the sixth grade to get _this_ popular.

She had a hot boyfriend. She was worshipped in every room she entered. She could ask any dweeb in the scholastic decathlon to do her homework if she inasmuch as made eye contact with them. Everything was fan-fucking-tastic for Chloe Valentine.

Except, maybe, somehow, they weren’t.

When Brooke gets a boyfriend the start of sophomore year, a _real_ boyfriend, some dark-haired senior who kind of has _no_ business around her Brooke.

He looks like a total deadbeat and smelled primarily of cigarettes and too much Old Spice that Chloe makes a conscious effort to breathe through her mouth when she’s around him. Okay, _maybe_ he did have that sexy rugged look, but it was primarily a semi-attractive hobo thing going on and Chloe was just being very _very_ nice.

She has no idea what Brooke sees in him. So she asks.

“He has his own car,” Brooke gushes, biting off a piece of sour tape as she presses her back on the headboard of Chloe’s bed “And he doesn't think my birthmark is weird.”

“No one thinks your birthmark is weird, Brooke,” Chloe rolls her eyes, leaning back with her. Brooke smiles almost fondly.

“Yeah, but, he saw it and didn't even ask about it. ‘Cause you know how it looks like a burn mark or whatever?”

Chloe lets Brooke ramble as she stares at her. Her hair is in a messy top knot and she's not wearing any makeup. Brooke’s kind of gorgeous like this, when they're not under anyone else’s eyes but each other’s. She doesn't care and she smiles bigger and laughs louder. Chloe feels a flash of protectiveness under her skin, an almost territorial instinct she only gets when she's around Brooke.

“—he didn't even try to touch it to see if it hurt—”

Chloe is close now, head pressed comfortably on Brooke’s shoulder. She feels Brooke move a hand towards her hair, stroking as she continues to talk. Chloe hums softly, nodding at the story.

She really hates this boy. Hates how he makes her best friend feel when Jake told him he's definitely seen the guy hook up with juniors during parties. Jake had told Chloe he probably had meth in his backpack half the time, and really, the fact that that was even a rumor made Chloe absolutely despise the guy. He wasn’t good for Brooke _or_ good enough for Brooke.

“—I really think it’s serious, Chlo,” Brooke sighed happily before she curls closer to Chloe, propping her head on top of hers, a small curtain of blonde waves obstructing Chloe’s vision “He already asked me to have sex with him.”

Something flares up in Chloe’s insides that make her inhale sharply but nestle closer to Brooke. “You’ve been going out with him for two weeks, Brooke.”

Brooke is quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“Do you think he wants to sleep with you because he’s serious about you?” Chloe asks, but there’s no harsh tone in her voice. She knows Brooke isn't stupid. Brooke can very much take care of herself. But sometimes, she knows Brooke can get a little too blindsided when it came to high school boys. Or, in her humble opinion, the most entitled and stupid fucks in their age group. She feels Brooke’s arm snake around hers.

“I don’t think so.”

Chloe catches the tiny quiver in Brooke’s voice. She puts her hand in top of hers. She knows Brooke doesn't deserve a lowlife who smells like the floor of a strip club.

Brooke deserves better.

Brooke deserves someone who can take care of her, protect her every single damn day.

Sometimes, Chloe thinks, if she were really going to go out of her way to date, Brooke needs someone like her. Or, if Brooke were lucky, the complete opposite of Chloe.

There's a feeling that’s coursing it's way across Chloe’s veins that she tries to ignore. She _really_ tries to ignore it the second Brooke cuddles by her waist and begins to snore softly.

She stares at the ceiling, throat tight as she holds Brooke, her Brooke. Her eyes wanted to look at her, curled blonde eyelashes and her soft, relaxed mouth.

Beautiful Brooke, who had always been by her side. Brooke, who had never been treated right by anyone in her life.

Chloe feels a persistent sensation behind her eyes. She begins to blink away a rare wave of tears away.

_No, not even by her own best friend sometimes._

* * *

Jake invites Chloe and Brooke to a junior party one day, because Jake is unquestionably the type to get invited to upperclassman parties.

They're handed red solo cups at the door and he watches both Chloe and Brooke sneer and as if in sync, empty the cups into a nearby plant. He frowns, not questioning the action but very much worried for the future state of the houseplant.

(He was, of course, Vice President of the Eco-Warriors in school.)

Chloe and Brooke at a party was always fascinating to him. For one, they always managed to turn heads and he's not sure if there's some pheromone activating switch they both turn on that gets both guys and girls to stare almost pathetically their way. Another was that, they held hands as if losing the other would weaken or even make this power disappear. This fact made him think that there definitely wasn't a weaker link of the two, despite Chloe being the perceived as the hotter, popular one. They needed each other.

He has to remind himself they're both just girls looking out for each other at a party and he genuinely feels his intervention isn't necessary. Chloe’s sharp wit and unforgiving gaze complemented Brooke’s sweet charm, making them quite the unstoppable force.

Jake really liked Chloe beyond what the current high school social paradigm told them to be. She was blunt and was never scared to speak her mind, which was always interesting. She was the one who told him to stop using “swag” unironically and to get his ears pierced.

Chloe never took any shit, and the only time Jake ever saw her soften was with Brooke. Perfectly understandable, because Brooke had always been nothing but sweet to everyone, and this most definitely put Chloe at the very top of the list. Maybe a tad cautious, but he never questioned it.

He sees Brooke freeze, causing Chloe to do the same. Jake takes one look at the devastated look on Brooke’s face. Chloe’s face is steel, impermeable but Jake himself knows that her knuckles are white as it grips Brooke’s hand.

Brooke’s hygienically questionable boyfriend is on the living room couch with a goddamn junior straddling his lap. Jake notices the lack of bottles or red cups around them, and he finds himself unconsciously grimacing.

He flashes Chloe a look, _told ya._

Chloe narrows her eyes back, slipping her fingers between a visibly shaken Brooke’s, _shut the fuck up, Dillinger._ Chloe nabs Jake’s drink, who has not time to cry out in protest before the scene that follows. Chloe lets go of Brooke’s hand, and Jake dutifully lets the blonde collapse on his chest. Together, they watch Chloe shove the girl onto the couch, before she whips her wrist holding the drink harshly straight into Brooke’s probably soon-to-be-ex’s face.

“What the _fuck_?” his voice booms, causing half the party to look over at the scene.

Jake smirks, _there’s my girl_ , and he sees Chloe visibly becoming more powerful at the sea of eyes on her now.

Chloe tosses her hair over her shoulder. “About fuckin’ time you took a shower, you _loser_.”

The senior is aghast, eyes wide and fists clenched in rage but the partygoers are whooping and laughing around them. Jake takes a careful step, just in case things go out of hand. Chloe stands her ground.

“You fucking _bitch_ ,” he yells out at her, and it only makes Chloe stand straighter, prouder. He stands up and leaves through the backdoor. The junior girl on the couch looks up at her with genuine amazement before scampering off herself.

“Let’s beat this place,” Chloe decides, and Jake offers his elbow the same time she gives Brooke her hand “I need a Slushie.”

* * *

Jake isn't even mad they had to leave an upperclassman party after ten minutes of being there. It's worth seeing Chloe and Brooke in the backseat, laughing their asses off as they retell the scene over and over again.

Tears are gone from Brooke’s eyes, as if they were never there and her mascara is good as new even though all they really plan to do is order a couple of slushies, an unhealthy amount of chips and eat in his car before they head home.

Jake exits the car, unable to help the wide smile on his face when he does. For what was supposedly just a convenient arrangement to rule the high school hierarchy, he never expected something this real. Maybe what he felt for Chloe was far from real. Maybe he wasn't going to find anything real in high school. But for now, the security and his own persistence towards success just might guarantee him something greater by college. Who knew?

He walks into the 7-Eleven, walking down the aisles for chips. A flash of a red hoodie catches his eye. Huh. Michael Mell. Jake never forgot a name but he was also dangerously low on the high school food chain. He never seemed to look like he tried or cared, though. Jake could respect that.

Michael was staring right at a pack of Lays as if it were a Botticelli painting, squinting and nodding.

“Dude, are you high?” Jake whispers, frowning.

Michael turns his head, almost owl-like, red eyes squinting now, at Jake. He looks up at the fluorescent lights, as if assessing the ceiling and shakes his head. “Nah.”

Jake gives him another look before he moves to grab a couple of cans of Pringles.

“What do you like best about Chloe?”

Jake nearly jumps at the slow, deliberate way it’s asked before he looks over his shoulder. A very stoned, albeit very serene Michael stares at him. “Excuse me?”

“Why do you love her?” he asks again, as his finger runs down a crinkly chip wrapper on display.

“She’s hot and cool,” Jake answers automatically, before subverting the issue “Man, you are practically biblically stoned.”

Michael, who seems to catch on the disingenuity, shakes his head, mouth quirking to the side. “There’s gotta be more to that, dude,”

 _You’re right_ , Jake thinks. It could be the weed but this Mell kid was definitely smarter than he lets on. Definitely hell of a lot wiser than ninety percent of the kids in high school. He grabs a few more bags before he hears Michael speak again, but it sounds like he’s talking to himself at this point now when he repeats—

“There’s always gotta something more,”

It’s almost bitter that Jake kind of wants to reach over and pat his shoulder or back if his hands weren’t full.

“Good luck with...Chloe,” Michael says and both their faces are awkward, completely unconvinced.

“I will,” Jake gives him a nod before he leaves him to stare at chip bags again.

He pays for the chips in the counter and grabs a couple of slushies before he walks towards the exit. From the glass door of 7-Eleven, he sees Chloe holding Brooke’s face in her hands. She's talking slowly, as if she needs Brooke to hear every word, loud and clear.

Jake, of course, can't hear a thing and only leaves the store when Brooke practically pounces Chloe into a tight hug. He really has no clue what was said between them but Michael’s words echo in his head.

_“There's gotta be more to that.”_

Maybe this was it, Chloe squeezing her eyes right and burying her face in Brooke’s hair before she looks up at the roof of his car, as if praying, begging.

Jake would later never forget that moment of vulnerability in Chloe’s eyes—breaking because her best friend did. He never forgets how Chloe’s eyes meet his, a deer in the headlights look that either meant _you will never fucking speak of this_ or something else that’s unspeakably different, something Chloe may never properly put into words.

He takes his time to get into the car, snacks in tow. “Chow is served, ladies!” he calls out in a cheery tone, to which Brooke flashes him a grateful look.

 _Don’t. Ever. Bring this up. Okay?_ Is bright in Chloe’s eyes, with the tiniest hint of desperation.

These are the moments that always catch Jake off-guard. He remembers being fourteen with the biggest crush on Chloe. Now, at sixteen where they ruled the halls of Middle Borough together, sometimes it’s hard to remember where it started or why he ever did.

He knows it’s gone beyond that. She loves Chloe and he knows she loves him back. Necessary mutualism, he calls it. To survive and to rule, to both be unbothered and powerful.

Jake doesn’t know a lot about being in love. But he sees it that night when Chloe and Brooke are talking over a shared slushie with two straws. Their eyes bright and voices young, as they should be, now, with things that didn’t matter anymore long forgotten.

 _Your secret is safe with me_ , he tells Chloe in a look into the rearview mirror. They’re driving back home and her arm is wrapped around a Brooke who is in and out of consciousness.

 _Thank you_ , she blinks, making it the first and only time Chloe ever looked at him with genuine gratitude.

* * *

Brooke gets home, waving goodbye as she beams at Jake and Chloe.

She could admit to herself she never really got envious of their relationship. It's just that she was always scared of the time Jake and Chloe might stop needing her. She freezes when she's unlocking her door at this thought, her eyes blinking way too fast. No, she wouldn't cry again. She wouldn't cry over things that weren't true.

Chloe loved her, and so did Jake. So much more than her now-ex did.

 _I'm important, too,_ she repeats in her head as she's locking the doors.

 _I'm loved,_ she whispers softly now, tossing her keys into the glass bowl by the door.

 _I matter to Chloe and Jake,_ echoes through her head, climbing the stairs, _they want me around._

She changes into her pajamas and washes off her makeup. She clicks her phone open. There's a single text from Chloe, a single heart emoji. Jake sends her one too, but in blue.

There's a moment when her smile falters. She imagines the scene, both of them parked outside her house. They smile to themselves, synchronize the sending and kiss each other lovingly, passionately, how Brooke’s always seen them kiss. They always seem so in love.  

There was a reason they were a power couple. They were both equally unstoppable forces, beautiful. Capable of making or breaking reputations.

Still. They looked so happy. Because they had each other.

Brooke thought she had that. She thought she could have that.

She snuggles close to her pillow, remembering Chloe’s words.

_You're worth so much. So fucking much that when the right guy comes along, he won't know what hit him._

She bites back a smile.

_You’re worth the world, Brooke and if some dumbass senior can't see that, that's on him._

Her fingers scramble for her phone to text Chloe. Her phone pings first.

**Jeremy Heere**

_can you please PLEASE fix the formatting on the google doc ??? for REALS:((((_

She frowns.

**Brooke Lohst**

_what_

**Jeremy Heere**

_omg_

_uh_

_holy crap oh man_

_hi Brooke?_

**Brooke Lohst**

_hi jeremy heere ?_

**Jeremy Heere**

_that was for brock villanueva in my english_

_you're both ‘bro’s so yeah_

_heh_

_sup bro_

_oh my god I'm so weird i shouldn't be talking to you_

Brooke frowns.

**Brooke Lohst**

_why not?_

**Jeremy Heere**

_uh you're like super popular and pretty_

_and i’m nobody_

Brooke lets herself grin at her phone.

**Brooke Lohst**

_you think i’m pretty?_

She taps on Jeremy’s profile. She zooms into his profile photo, which is of him taken in some park. He's wearing a sweatshirt that looks kind of too big on him, emphasizing how skinny Jeremy is. She couldn't stop herself from staring back at Jeremy’s eyes. They were wide and expressive, and reminded her too much of Chloe’s own. Jeremy’s looked kind and approachable. Pretty, came to mind.

He was definitely cute. In a totally unconventional way, sure, but he reminded Brooke of a little puppy. And no way could she pass up a puppy.

**Jeremy Heere**

_yeah. and your laugh is really cute you know_

_was that creepy_

_I'm so sorry night brooke_

**Brooke Lohst**

_it was_

_very freakin creepy……._

_is heere your real last name?_

**Jeremy Heere**

_unfortunately_

They end up talking the whole night.

* * *

When Brooke starts dating Jeremy Heere the summer before junior year, Chloe is a consistent mess.

She and Jake start having sex more often, and it’s really more of a friendly sport than anything. They broke up publicly some time ago, but old habits did die hard between them. It’s supposed to get the stress out, or whatever. Jake has his tri-state debate thing and Chloe has her feelings. It keeps their nerves down and keeps them busy.

She hadn't ever noticed Jeremy before, except maybe for all those times he would stare right at her cleavage when he thought she wouldn't notice. Jeez, he really had no grasp of subtlety.

“Tell her, Chlo, jeez.” Jake insists when the first thing Chloe does when they both redress is flip her phone to look at the screen “You look like you're about to die if you don't.”

Chloe rolls her eyes before she tosses her phone onto somewhere in the mattress and she lays back against the pillows, placing her hands behind her as she stares up at the ceiling. “I hate that nerd.”

“You're just making my point all the more valid,” Jake says pointedly.

“He's not even that cute.”

“He's _kinda_ cute.”

“Shut your gay ass, Dillinger.” Chloe shoots him a glare.

“I'm pan,” Jake shrugs a single shoulder from where he's straddling his computer chair.

“Okay, fine,” she huffs loudly as she rubs her eyes “he's really cute and he's absolutely perfect for Brooke because he's sweet but kind of a dick like everyone else and he spaces out like, way too long to be normal but Brooke thinks that’s adorable for some fucking reason I'll never grasp.”

Jake smiles for a second before he looks over at her fondly. “She's your best friend. She _has_ to understand, right? If she doesn't, then what the hell would you call our entire relationship then?”

“I don't know,” Chloe mutters, as she's picking at her nail beds.

“You're good to her, Chlo.”

 _Good to her_ , the phrase swims around her head and it makes her swallow a lump in her throat. “I'm not.”

“I don't believe that for a second.”

“I'm not,” Chloe insists “I don't know how to be good to her. Do you see her? She's so scared of me. She's terrified and all I've been doing is scaring the shit out of her because I don't know how to,” her breath hitches “How to not be a bitch. What the fuck does that say about me?”

“You don't scare her, though.”

For a second, Chloe could laugh. She's laying on the bed while Jake looks onto her, some post-sex therapy session that has always been too weird but they haven't really known how to go about it any other way. The entire situation was just _weird_.

“Chloe? You there?”

She nods weakly.

“She's not scared of you,” Jake reassures her “Sure, you're a giant bitch and honestly? Totally unnecessary sometimes.”

She snorts. _Thanks_.

Jake rolls his eyes. “She knows you love her. Sophomore year proved that. Remember? How you'll do anything for her.”

Chloe buries her face in the pillow.

“Chloe, I swear to god, if you start crying, I'm going to kick you out of my house.”

She pulls away, an offended look on her face.

“I'm kidding. Just please don't cry. It'll make me super uncomfortable if I see you cry. We don't want to start now,” he jokes before returning the grin that Chloe shoots her.

“Okay for real,” Jake continues, narrowly dodging the Beanie Baby that Chloe throws his way “I know you love her. You are, however, super fucking evil. But like, even supervillains deserve love, man.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “I still don't think I could tell her, though.”

“It's not easy. It never is. But once it's out there, it's out there.”

Chloe buries her cheek on Jake’s pillowcase, sighing out. “I guess, soon?”

“Tell you what, do you know when it'll be perfect to tell her? My Halloween party next week. A little liquid courage, some dim lighting? It's foolproof.”

There's a smile that plus on Chloe’s lips, looking up at him with exaggeratedly earnest eyes. “Have I told you recently how much I love and adore you, Jacob?”

Jake visibly winces. “You'll keep that Jacob to yourself, Chloe _Ernestine_.”

He doesn't dodge the next Beanie Baby in time.

* * *

Chloe doesn't say anything during Jake’s Halloween party.

Jake is happy somewhere, probably with Rich in a closet and she kind of wishes she meant that figuratively. Everywhere room is taken by midnight and they can only manage to procure the tiny space in his own damn house.

She doesn't drink a single drop of alcohol and lets herself be sober while she watches Brooke laugh. She lets her be happy. She lets her sit on Jeremy’s lap, who quite honestly, looks like a condom. Brooke, her perfect Brooke, had dressed up like a sexy dog and it was doing all kinds of things to her heart.

She stomps her way towards the basement, grip tight on her baby bottle. She decides to take a long swig, letting out a groan. There's a figure that's hunched over on top of the washing machine. It's a black sweatshirt and dark hair and the saddest fucking look Chloe’s ever seen.

“You,” Chloe calls out, pointing her bottle at him.

The person frowns before pointing at himself. “Michael.”

“Cheeto fingers Michael Mell?”

“Are you shitting me—come on!” he buries his face in his hands “I make one goddamn project that _happened_ to have cheese dust on it and that's how you know me as?”

Chloe shrugs. She takes another swig.

“Let me guess,” Michael says slowly as he eyes her “It hurts to watch?”

“Okay, first off,” Chloe takes a few steps toward him, pointing a finger towards his chest “I’m _not_ in love with Brooke. So write that down, cheeto fingers.”

“Michael,” he repeats, firmer, pointing at himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes at him. Silence fills the air before she clears her throat. “What, are you like, totally in love with Jeremy or something?”

“Yes,” Michael replies almost instantly, catching Chloe way off guard. She stares at Michael, an almost fascinated expression on her face as she watches him pull back his shoulders before speaking again “I _am_ in love with him.”

“Well, congrats, I hope you have cute gay babies together,” Chloe says but she jumps onto the washing machine beside him “What does Brooke even see in him?”

For a second, Michael looks offended. “Um, hello? He’s kind of the most adorable thing that’s ever happened to a teenage boy. Have you seen his eyes?” He props his elbow onto his knee, cheek falling on top of his palm “He’s also like, the nicest _ever_. Funny, too. Self-deprecating funny that kinda makes me want to punch him in the gut, though. He’s just the best person in the whole world.” He eyes Chloe, who sympathetically hands him her bottle “What does he see in her?”

Chloe watches Michael wince when he takes a sip and laughs. “She’s beautiful, obviously,” she practically snaps “Sometimes I think she might be an angel and nothing I could ever do would ever make me good enough for her.”

“That’s a sucky thought.” Michael wrinkles his nose.

“It’s a fact.” Chloe shrugs.

They sit in silence for a while, hearing the thumping and the voices from the party above them. They pass around the baby bottle until they're both giggling at nothing.

“I watch her sleep sometimes during out sleepovers,” Chloe blurts out, which causes Michael to giggle-snort “Why is that funny?”

“That's so creepy,” Michael exclaims before taking a brace swig “But like, hard same, man. Jeremy’s a mumbler.”

“Brooke’s a snorer.”

They both sigh.

“Being in love sucks,” Chloe whines before she feels Michael repositioning himself, laying his head on her lap.

Michael makes a soft noise in response.

They stay like that. Every so often, one of them would chirp up with a “Jeremy’s eyes are so _blue_ , he’s like the sky, Chloe, the sky!” or “Brooke still listens to the Jonas Brothers, isn't that the cutest?” or whimpering in sync.

“What if,” Michael slurs, frowning when Chloe passes him the bottle and it’s too empty now “We date each other. They’d totally get jealous.”

“That’s a stupid idea and you’re gay as hell, Michael,” Chloe mumbles back, where she’s half-lying on the machine and the wall. Michael’s head is still on her lap and his legs stretch all the way to the dryer. They’re drunk and comfortable.

“Both very true,” he affirms, shooting a finger gun towards her direction “But like, it’s easier than telling them how we feel.”

“Hard pass,” Chloe snorts “No offense. You’re nice and all, but no way am I doing that. Too crazy.” She lets out a shaky sigh before her hand finds Michael’s hair, combing her fingers through them, pretending they were longer, blonder, silkier. “Besides, they’re so blindly crazy over each other I don’t think they’d even bother to care. They make each other happy, can’t you see that? The goo-goo eyes and her taking her to—” She frowns, swallowing “To our place behind the school. Like who the fuck is Jeremy Heere to go to our spot?”

Seconds later, Chloe hears Michael sniffling harshly. Her frown deepens. Oh, no fuckin’ way is this boy crying on her now. “I’m gonna die alone,” he cries out dramatically.

“What the shit— Mell, you are not,” Chloe growls, sitting up too fast and almost falling off-balance when she does “Anything’s better than constantly having sex with your ex who isn’t even out.”

His sniffling stops, evidently caught off guard “Jake’s _gay?_ ”

“Pan,” Chloe corrects him with a glare, waving her hand “I just. Wow. I really fucking hate this?”

“Me too, man,” Michael murmurs, for the lack of anything better to say. He goes back to crying.

Chloe ends up letting tears leak out as she’s holding Michael, stroking his hair over and over. No one could have told her four years ago this would have happened— where she would be holding the boy she supposedly French-kissed behind the school or whatever, where they’d be crying over their best friends, drunk at a party, where they’d both be in love with said best friends.

No one tells her she’d cry harder when she checks her phone through blurred vision, some text along the lines of _i think it’s really him chloe_ with every variation of the heart emoji that’s really fucking unnecessary but so very Brooke to do.

She doesn’t text back _you’ve know him for how many fucking months brooke_.

Or _that’s too fucking soon brooke why have you never listened to anything i say about dumb BOYS_.

Or _i’m fucking in love with you i hate you so fucking much why did you have to be so good to me and to everyone and why didn’t i show you how much you mean to me i’m so fucking stupid brooke why did i wait so fucking long please be with me instead._

She’s put up the front for too long and it’s a good front—one that’s given her popularity, respect, and a title of head bitch in charge that she keeps close to her.

Brooke didn’t deserve to love someone like her. She deserved the complete opposite of Chloe—kind and maybe a little shy and nerdy but was constantly and needlessly good to her. Someone constantly smiling like she is, too. Someone like Jeremy.

She looks at Michael, who’s so close to passing out and wonders if she looks exactly like he does right now. Tired and pathetic. Rubbing at her face, she decides she definitely does.

“Do you think you’ll ever tell him one day? Not soon, but, ever?” Chloe tests, words feeling too foreign to her ears.

“Why would I?” Michael says almost mockingly “I think he’s...happy. Who am I to take that away from him and keep him for myself?”

* * *

Weeks melt into months.

Brooke doesn’t text Chloe some night in January when they were supposed to have a sleepover. Brooke insists that she’s over at Jeremy’s and his dad is gone for a weekend. She begs Chloe to cover for her in case her parents call or text her. Chloe screams into her pillow.

She wants to ignore her phone. Neither Jeremy nor Brooke are online on Facebook and her stomach lurches.

Alone for a weekend.

Yet—

_Who am I to take that away from her and keep her for myself?_

* * *

February and _i think i really love him. like really really love him, chlo._

Seconds later with, _he’s so good to me._

Chloe deletes the texts.

She’s only human. She’s not untouchable.

* * *

Brooke has never smiled so much in her life.

March rolls around. They walk down the hall and Jeremy’s wearing the maroon cardigan she’d given him last Christmas.

(She thinks it’s the cutest thing when Jeremy visibly wipes his palms onto this cardigan before he grabs her hand.)

She looks down at their hands and admires her handiwork from the other day, a bright turquoise on his nails. Jeremy had resisted at first but she insisted it brought out his eyes. He smiled, then and relented. Brooke loved his eyes and he knew that.

Jeremy made her stop thinking so much about popularity. When she was with Jeremy, all she could think about was kissing him in their spot behind the school or driving around with him. She didn’t think about what was the right thing to say or do because whatever she said or did, Jeremy’s smile would get wider, even if it was something about craving buffalo wings or singing off-key to the bands he got her into.

She loved Michael too, who made her a mixtape on cassette, declaring _in all my thirteen years of being his best friend, no one’s ever made him smile like that, you deserve this_.

In the parties Chloe would invite them to, Jeremy would always dig around for a Capri-Sun or a Sprite for her because they both hated alcohol.

Sure, he was scared of Chloe but she always found it hilarious, the way he’d instinctively hide behind Brooke or how his voice would get higher if she used a tone he wasn’t used to. They still got along, and that’s what mattered most to Brooke.

Jake loved him. He was strangely apprehensive at first, but Brooke understood. The last guy she dated wasn’t exactly the most upstanding. (Last she heard, he was in jail or something.)

She sees Chloe and Michael together a lot, and she’s just glad everyone she holds so dear to her does so with each other. As if everything fell right into place.

Brooke still looks at Chloe with the same wide, expectant eyes from years upon years of being by her side. Chloe just looks back, smiles and sometimes squeezes her hand.

She has everything she could ever want.

Months later, when her best friend stares at the floor when she’s crowned prom queen alongside Jake’s prom king, she wonders if Chloe does, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore comments/kudos! Please do leave some if you enjoyed this fic, and don't hesitate to hit me up on Tumblr at [starkerpeter](https://starkerpeter.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
